


Changes

by bev_crusher1971



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: cuddle fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nogitsune was gone. Finally. Sheriff Stilinski sure needed a drink now. Nice to know Chris Argent is still around to join him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to be up-to-date for this story. 
> 
> Basically, this is just a big ball of fluff, created to make everbody feel better until TPTB solve this whole Nogitsune stuff.

It was over.

Stiles lay in his bed, sleeping, finally freed from the Nogitsune. The Sheriff felt twenty years older as he was standing in his son's room, staring down at the sleeping form of his kid. Derek sat next to the bed, holding Stiles' hand tightly, not once moving his eyes away from him. 

"Son,“ the older man began, resting his hand on Derek's shoulder, but he just shrugged his hand off, looking up at him with clear, green eyes. 

"Not leaving, Sheriff“ he said with conviction. The Sheriff smiled sadly. He could understand him. He didn't want to leave either, but he was so deadly tired that he was barely able to keep his eyes open. A hand on his arm made him turn around slowly. He looked right into Chris Argent's eyes. The other man was gazing at him in sympathy. 

"Come on, Sheriff, let the boys be. Derek'll watch over your son. You need rest.“

John Stilinski nodded, not quite grasping when he had become so comfortable around these men that he trusted them with the most precious thing he had: his own son. 

He patted Derek one last time on the shoulder, and then he turned around, following Chris Argent out of Stiles' room. Silently, they walked into the kitchen where the hunter reached for two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. The Sheriff didn't know how Allison's father knew where he kept his liquor, and quite frankly right now he didn't care. He watched the other man pour two generous amounts of alcohol, and took the offered glass, clinking it softly with Argent's, and downing it in one go. 

He gasped slightly. His last heavy drinking had been a long while ago, thanks to Stiles, and he immediately felt the warmth of the liquid spread through his bones. With a sigh he put the glass down. 

"It's done, Sheriff,“ Argent said into the silence of the room, "we did it. The Nogitsune is gone, and Stiles is safe. Alive and healthy.”

Wordlessly, Stilinski pushed his glass over to the hunter, asking for another drink without saying it out loud. Argent refilled their glasses, and they clinked again. The second went down a little smoother. He closed his eyes for a moment, murmuring, "Thanks to you, Argent.“

He opened his eyes again, finding himself under the intense gaze of those silvery-gray eyes. He continued, "Thanks to you, your daughter, Scott, Derek, Isaac and Kira.“

He felt miserable. "I had next to nothing to do with it.“ He barked out a short laughter. "God, I never thought I'd ever be grateful to some hunters, and a bunch full of werewolves but here I am … owing them for the rest of my life for saving my kid.“

He could feel tears behind his eyes, and tried to wipe them away without the other man noticing it but it was in vain. He closed his eyes again, dropped his head on his folded hands on the table in front of him, and could feel the sadness, the tears, the sobs he had held back for weeks finally breaking through. 

Suddenly, there were strong arms moving him around, encircling him, pressing him against a hard body. Suddenly, there was a hand in his hair, petting him gently, and another hand on his back, stroking him slowly. Suddenly, there was a deep, rumbling voice in his ear, murmuring, "There, there, just let it out, Sheriff. I gotcha, just let it go.“

And without thinking too clearly, he did. 

He cried out all of his pain, of his worries, of his grief. He cried for his heart that had been broken again and again in the last few weeks, and that still wasn't quite certain if it would ever mend back again properly. 

But he also felt the compassion of the man holding him in his arms, letting him cry while comforting him. 

He didn't know just exactly how long they stood like that. Chris Argent, the ruthless hunter holding the broken Sheriff in his arms, rocking him like a little kid, murmuring nonsense in his ear while simply being there for him. 

"Feeling better, Sheriff?“ Argent asked after a long time when the storm seemed to have subsided, and the other man nodded. He slowly removed himself from the hunter's embrace, and looked for a tissue, when one was pressed into his hand. 

"Thanks,“ he mumbled, blowing his nose, already beginning to feel a little foolish for loosing it so completely, then he added, "and call me John.“

"John,“ Argent said, smiling a little, "I'm Chris.“

"I know,“ John said, and both man had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

"I'm sorry, Chris. Normally I have better self-control.“

The hunter grew serious again. "What happened those last few weeks was far from being normal,“ he replied, "even for Beacon Hills which has a history of being not quite normal.“

Then he took a step closer. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you, fearing that your son might have the same disease as your wife.“ A hand landed on John's arm. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'd be glad to listen.“

The Sheriff nodded. Suddenly, he yawned hugely. "Jesus, I'm tired. I really should lay down.“

Chris moved a step back, and nodded. "Yeah. I probably should be heading home, too.“

"Allison's with Isaac?“ the Sheriff asked, and the hunter nodded, and added, "And Scott's with Kira.“ 

John moved his head upstairs. "Derek's with Stiles, so … nothing to worry about tonight. You can crash here if you want.“

Chris narrowed his eyes slightly. "You sure? I could understand it if you want to be ...“

A raised hand quieted him down. "Believe me, Chris, the last thing I need tonight is to be alone. You can even share the bed because the couch will sure as hell ruin your back. I promise not to molest you in your sleep. It's just...“ he broke off, running his hand through his hair in a helpless gesture. 

"Well, as there is no one in the apartment who might miss me,“ Chris began, then he smiled, "I'll accept the offer. Thanks, John. Driving home right now would've been a bitch.“

Together they climbed up the stairs to the bedroom, switching off the lights on the way up, until the whole house was dark and quiet. 

~*~

Stiles awoke slowly, feeling as rested as never before. One by one the memories from the day before came back to him. Scott. Kira. The Nogitsune. His Dad in Derek's loft, approaching him carefully. That damned demon inside of him rubbing his hands in glee, intent to destroy lifes. 

Then chaos. Derek. Kira again. Allison and her dad. Isaac, trying to protect Allison. The twins trying to protect Scott, their Alpha. And Derek, trying to protect everyone. 

Derek who was currently resting half on top of his bed, his hand grabbing Stiles' tightly, never wanting to let go. Which was fine by Stiles. 

But then his bladder let him know that now while he was awake it was a damned good time to take care of it.

Carefully, he pulled his hand out of Derek's grip, and swung his legs out of bed. Moving up, he swayed slightly, feeling lightheaded for a moment. A hand on his hip steadied him, and when he glanced up, he saw Derek standing next to him. "And here I was thinking I could sneak out on the werewolf,“ Stiles joked, and Derek hesitantly smiled. 

"Not anytime soon, Stiles,“ he replied, "because when I'm not here, I'm sure your dad won't leave you out of his sight for the next ten years.“

The mentioning of his dad brought a frown to Stiles' face, and he moved towards his dad's bedroom. He could hear a soft snoring through the door, and for a moment he rested his head against it, silently thanking every deity and all of his friends for saving him and his dad. Quietly, he opened the door to cast one quick glance at his dad, just to make sure that it was really him in there, sleeping peacefully. 

He poked his head around the door, and … ah yeah, there he was. His dad, sleeping peacefully curled around Chris Argent. Smiling, Stiles started to close the door again when his brain finally managed to catch up with what his eyes had just seen. 

With a yelp, he pushed the door open again, barely refraining it from crashing into the wall. 

Yes, there was indeed his dad. In bed. Together with Allison's dad. Allison's dad who had his arms wound around his dad's shoulders, hugging him in his sleep. Keeping him safe. Protecting him. 

Both still wearing t-shirts, thank God, and why the hell was this so important to his brain?

Hands on his shoulders dragged him back out of his dad's bedroom, and back into his own. 

"You okay?“

Derek sounded worried, and Stiles sat down on his bed again, bladder forgotten for the moment. 

"Look, Stiles, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this.“

Derek sounded way too nervous while the braincells in Stiles' head worked overtime to figure out what he'd just seen. 

"What happened last night?“ he finally asked quietly. 

Derek sat down next to him, reaching again for his hand, holding it tightly. "We brought you home,“ he began, "after defeating the Nogitsune. Scott brought Kira home, and Allison disappeared with Isaac. Her dad accompanied us here, helped us carry you into your room. Then he went down with your dad. They had some drinks, and ….“ Derek hesitated, and Stiles knew with a surprising certainty that he wouldn't like what was about to come. 

"And?“ he asked as the silence stretched. 

"Look, Stiles, I know you don't like your dad drinking but believe me he only had two Scotch last night, and he really, really deserved it.“

Stiles laughed in relief. Of course he didn't like his dad drinking but for a moment he was afraid that Derek would describe a bout of heavy sex going on in their kitchen. It’s not that he would be opposed to a little sexing himself, it's just … his dad? Ewwweee!!

There were certain things he really, really didn't need to know about his dad. His sex-life was one of them. 

"Your dad,“ Derek continued, "he broke down last night. Knowing you're safe, and back … he just broke down. Argent was there to pick up the pieces. Comforted him while your dad cried his heart out.“

Stiles swallowed, and felt himself tear up. Damn Nogitsune. If Kira hadn't killed it, Stiles would have happily ripped it to shreds. 

"Do you remember the tricks the Nogitsune played on us?“

Stiles slowly shook his head. "Just in bits and pieces but overall … no.“

Derek gripped his hand a little tighter. "He made your dad believe you suffered from the same disease as your mom.“

Stiles barely managed it to the toilet before he threw up what little he had inside. 

"I didn't know,“ he croaked out, "oh God, I'm so sorry, I didn't know.“

Derek rubbed his shoulder in a soothing gesture, and just opened his mouth to say something when a voice behind them muttered, "Lucky for all of us, your dad is a clever guy.“

Derek and Stiles turned around, and gazed up at Chris Argent. He simply wore a t-shirt and boxers, and had a still sleepy Sheriff Stilinski pressed to his side. 

"You okay, kid?“ his dad asked, entangling himself from Argent, and kneeling down on the cold floor next to his son. 

Stiles nodded, and then he threw himself in his dad's arms, hugging him for all he was worth, murmuring over and over again how sorry he was. 

~*~

Argent and Derek exchanged a quick look, before the werewolf raised himself up, and said, "I'll call the others. Let them know Stiles is okay.“ 

The hunter nodded, watching father and son clinging to each other. When they at last let go of each other, he grabbed the other man's elbow, gently helping him up again, Stiles helping him on the other side. 

"I think I'm getting too old for stuff like that,“ the older Stilinski murmured, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that hadn't been there for weeks. 

About an hour later, the Stilinski kitchen was filled with voices, laughter, and the smell of amazing food. Apparently, the rest of the pack had not only come in person but had also been loaded with food. 

Chris Argent watched his daughter hand feed Isaac, saw Scott pushing some pancakes on Kira's plate because "you HAVE to try them. I swear to god, Stiles' are the best you've ever eaten.“ Aiden – or was it Ethan? - had brought Danny over, sitting more or less in his lap, apparently intent on not letting him go too soon. His twin was mooning over Lydia, bringing her food and drinks, and basically treating her like the goddess she seemed to be. He saw Derek growling softly at everyone who came too close to Stiles or hugged him too long until the younger man punched him in the arm. 

And he watched Sheriff John Stilinski, cradling a cup of steaming hot coffee with his eyes half closed, casting a quick glance and a smile at him every now and then. 

Something had changed last night. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was there, unobtrusively lingering in the background. Waiting for its time. 

When most of the food was gone – or better devoured – the pack moved to different corners of the Stilinski living room. Couch, chair, floor. He could see werewolves all over the room. A movement next to him caught his eye, and he saw John standing next to him. 

"Quite a group we have here, huh?“ he asked with a smile, and Chris simply nodded. It wasn't as if he was counting but there *were* five werewolves in this house and though he knew they meant no harm, he still felt a little uneasy. Then his eyes followed the Sheriff's gaze, and he saw Stiles, curled up inside Derek's arms like he *belonged* there. And he remembered Derek's part in rescuing Stiles. And suddenly he realized that the young man would never be safer, never be more protected than here, surrounded by this weird mix of werewolves, hunters, a kitsune, a banshee, and a Sheriff. 

“Yeah,“ he answered finally. "Quite a group we have here.“

It would take a lot of time to heal, he knew that. Everybody knew that. But they were getting there. 

He leaned a little closer to the Sheriff – no, to John, so he could feel the other man's warmth through his t-shirt. 

End


End file.
